Let’s give Jeurys Familia every benefit of every doubt, as he is entitled to in our justice system. Let’s assume there’s genuine merit attached to the quotes attributed to him by a Dominican reporter, as opposed to them merely being the common denials of a man facing an ominous criminal charge.

“Somebody is trying to damage my reputation with this info. I’m at peace with my family,” was the quote Familia apparently gave, in Spanish, to Hector Gomez of Z-101 radio in the Dominican Republic, in the wake of Familia’s arrest this week in Fort Lee, N.J., on a charge of simple assault and a disorderly persons offense. The victim, not named on the police report, was Familia’s wife, a source said.

That’s domestic violence in any language.

Gomez translated the quote in English on his Twitter account. Familia added: “Thank God, I’m fine, and with my whole family.”

OK. Let’s say all of that accurately reflects what happened, at least as it pertains to Familia’s side of the story. Then let’s ask ourselves two questions:

1) Why wouldn’t Familia have told the Mets about this as soon as this happened, especially if he was being set up, as he hints? According to the Record of Hackensack, N.J., the Mets were caught off guard when a reporter contacted them; they thought Familia was at his home in the Dominican this week, not at the residence in Fort Lee he shares with his wife and 1-year-old son.

2) Why would he give his name as “Jeurys F. Mojica” — his middle name? According to the Mets, he has never once gone by that name in any dealing with the club. As further reported by the Record, “when asked if anyone at all refers to or knows him as Jeurys Mojica, the answer was a terse, ‘no.’ ”

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Again: Even this questionable behavior is no evidence Familia is guilty of the charges against him. He will have his day in court, and he will have plenty of opportunity to explain himself.

But it certainly does make you question his judgment.

Look, you can probably line up dozens of teammates and friends who will express genuine shock at the mere notion Familia is capable of such behavior. He comes across as a genuinely good and gracious guy; when he surrendered the home run that ultimately cost the Mets the National League wild-card game, he patiently answered question after question.

In July, in a quiet moment before the All-Star Game, I’d asked him what he enjoyed best about being named an All-Star for the first time. Though he can speak English well, he asked if I’d mind if he answered through an interpreter because he wanted to make sure his feelings weren’t lost in translation.

“What I want, more than anything,” he said, quietly, “is to be a role model, and not just for children in my home country, but for kids in New York. I want them to look at me and see how a big-leaguer acts, behaves, and plays.”

FamiliaPhoto: UPI

But as often as we in the media talk to athletes, we hardly ever know them, certainly not in 2016 when the screens of trust and mistrust keep us all guarded on either side of the clubhouse line. Honestly, there probably isn’t a reporter who ever encountered Jose Reyes who wasn’t utterly blindsided by the domestic-violence charges filed against him almost exactly a year ago — charges for which he never ultimately faced a trial, but were serious enough to warrant a 52-game ban.

It’s partly why, if these charges prove to be even partly legitimate, you wonder what it takes to get messages across to players about issues such as domestic violence. Familia saw the public penance Reyes rightly had to serve — and will eternally serve — for his sins. The other closer in New York for half this season, Aroldis Chapman, also forfeited a month due to his own domestic-violence transgression last year.

And Familia himself taped a PSA condemning it, saying in Spanish: “I am a fan of baseball. I am a fan of the Mets. I am not a fan of domestic violence.”

He will get to answer for this, and there is a part of you that hopes it can be explained away — and not because of what it will mean to the Mets, who will lose him for an extended time if there is even a whiff of truth behind it. Rather, because you want to believe people — athletes most of all — have their eyes wide open, that they’re paying attention, that they see what awaits in the shadows if they succumb to their darkest impulses.

It was all there in front of Familia all year long. How could he not see? If he did this, how can any punishment feel strong enough?